


Night on Bald Mountain

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fighting, Good Peter, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Sex, POV Peter Hale, Sane Peter Hale, Scott is a Good Friend, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: “Are you suggesting something like the Gandalf versus Saruman showdown in Fellowship of the Ring? Peter inquired.Stiles gaped at Peter for a moment—perhaps it hadn’t occurred to Stiles that someone Peter’s age was familiar with J. R. R. Tolkien but Peter had devoured the books as a teenager and had lined up for every one of the movies—before nodding his head, happy amazement scenting the air.  Then the younger man scrunched up his face in thought.  “Actually, Gandalf kind of gets his ass kicked in that scene and I don’t want to be Saruman.  No, wait!  I’ve got it, Dumbledore versus Valdemort in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.”Peter snorted, happy to trade cultural references with a worthy opponent:  “Actually I was leaning toward Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice in Fantasia. Or the one where Peter coaches Stiles for a magical showdown to save the pack.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a weakness for slow burn Peter and Stiles so I twisted this prompt (fighting) so Peter could work with Stiles on his magic game. I hope you enjoy!

It had been a long strange year yet Peter didn’t remember the majority of it. 

Peter refocused on the conversation swirling around him as he sat at the breakfast bar separating the main living area in Derek’s loft, where members of the McCall Pack sat, from the kitchen. 

“So you’re saying that our best defense is to set up a barrier that will repel the Calaveras incursion minimizing casualties on both sides?” Scott asked Deaton who appeared via Skype on Derek’s large screen TV mounted on the wall. The druid’s forehead—yes, Peter thought of is as a five-head but then he could be remarkably immature at times—glistened dully with moisture indicating he was either somewhere humid or he was exceedingly nervous. 

“Yes, Scott, I really think this is your best option since you’re set on minimizing fatal outcomes,” Deaton nodded sagely.

Lydia piped up. “What exactly is the mechanism for creating and holding such a barrier?”

Life might have been harsh for Ms. Martin as she acquired her Banshee powers but she was still perfectly turned out, fearless and outspoken in her opinions. She was Peter’s second favorite pack mate.

Deaton cleared his throat. “The supernatural among you will supply the power for the barrier. I have a spell that will accomplish this. Ms. Martin, if I may, I will ask you to be in charge of the spell.”

Nodding solemnly, Lydia agreed. “Of course. If you could please send me the specifications I’ll work on pulling together what we need.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “And the rest of the mechanism you referred to for this barrier? What does it entail?”

Crossing his arms, Deaton frowned. “We need someone who can be the spark here, preferably someone who has shown that aptitude previously. With the right training, this person can channel the energy to create the barrier. Once the barrier is completely in place, the Calaveras will never be able to set foot on pack territory again.”

“Uh, huh. Someone who has shown an aptitude for being a spark previously,” Stiles muttered quietly, staring down at his feet. 

“What are the dangers involved here?” Scott inquired, his own arms crossing over his chest. Peter could feel the power rippling off of the werewolf.

“The danger to the shifters and Banshee are negligible since the power will be spread out among all of you,” Deaton slowly explained.

“And the human channeling that power?” Scott softly questioned. He was keeping his attention firmly focused on Deaton.

“There is some risk. If the Calaveras have a way to redirect the barrier back to the source, the person holding the barrier up might become overloaded. Think of it akin to a power surge when the voltage spikes. We will need to put a magical surge protector in place to prevent damage,” Deaton explained using laymen terms.

Derek flexed his vocal muscles for the first time during the video chat. “You will be sending us all of this information in detail.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Derek might no longer be an Alpha but he still had quite a bit of pull with Scott who seemed to rely on his nephew’s advice.

“Of course, Derek,” Deaton responded, gravely. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you but I have faith you’ll do fine in my absence.”

Peter still had problems trusting the one-time emissary to the Hales. The lack of living Hales seemed to bear out his mistrust.

The video chat wrapped up rather quickly after that.

Liam Dunbar, Scott’s first beta and the reason the Calaveras were gunning for the McCall pack, raised his hand. “I don’t know what a spark is, can someone explain that to me please?”

Liam’s best friend, Mason Hewitt, actually fielded the question. “A spark is someone who can trigger Mountain Ash to create the active barrier.”

Liam and his gal-pal, Hayden stared at Mason incredulously.

The younger man shrugged. “Lydia gave me some books. This stuff is interesting.”

Stiles weighed in on the conversation. “The power of belief is needed to activate the barrier. The creator of the barrier has to believe the dust will have the desired effect and imagine the outcome in order to make it work. No magical powers needed.”

The young man dating Mason, Corey, chimed in next. “Can I be a spark? I mean I’m not sure my powers of invisibility will really help power anything.”

Scott directed his attention toward an unexpected source. “Peter, what do you think? You probably have the most knowledge of magic next to Deaton.”

Peter, shocked at this turn of events, nevertheless found himself on his feet, responding to the call of his Alpha. “Perhaps we can devise a bit of a test to see who can create a barrier. It may be possible that more than one person can contribute to this aspect. Sharing the load, so to speak.”

Peter was further surprised when Scott was quick to concur. “Great idea Peter. Can you be in charge of the testing? Mason, Corey and Stiles will be here tomorrow at 9 a.m. if that’s okay with Derek.”

Derek shrugged. “That’s fine with me. I’m up by 6 a.m. so you can make it earlier if you want.”

Mason and Corey groaned. Scott smiled at them before answering, “I think 9 will be early enough. Chris said the Calaveras are mobilizing their staff but they aren’t actively moving their operations yet so we should still have time to get this right.”

That was another eye-opener for Peter; Chris Argent worked with the pack to keep them safe. 

Scott continued on, not giving Peter any time to readjust to his new world order. “Lydia, please let me know if you need help acquiring anything for the spell. Hey, everyone, meet back here tomorrow at 6 p.m. so we can finalize things.”

The meeting broke up and the younger members were standing in a cluster, chatting. Hayden called across the room. “Hey, Stiles, how is Malia doing?”

Stiles smiled. “You ought to ask Peter that question. He’s talked to her more recently than I have.”

The young man had actually helped broker peace between Peter and his daughter. Family and pack were everything to Peter and for that reason alone, Peter would always be in Stiles’s debt.

Hayden turned her pretty brown eyes on Peter. “Is Malia still with Braeden?”

Peter smiled widely, but naturally. “Yes she is and she’s enjoying herself immensely. She said she would try to return to Beacon Hills for the holidays but Braeden is keeping her busy, teaching her the ropes of bounty hunting,” Peter responded. Braeden was actually a mercenary but her job seemed to most resemble that of a supernatural bounty hunter. Malia was a natural according to her mentor. Peter couldn’t have been more proud.

“Cool,” Hayden exclaimed, the dimples at the side of her mouth flexing. “Please tell her I said hi the next time you speak to her.”

Liam, Hayden, Mason and Corey drifted toward the door after a chorus of goodbyes.

Scott, Derek, Lydia and Stiles were huddled together, going over strategy. That gave Peter time to think of how he wanted to conduct the spark test tomorrow. There were some books in his private collection that he wanted to check before the morning. 

The meeting had energized Peter. The pack had a plan and Peter had a part to play in it. Peter remembered literally clawing someone’s face off to be heard during previous pack meetings but that was so long ago that even without his memory issues, it might have been difficult to recall the particulars. 

Scott and Stiles clapped Peter on the shoulder, murmuring goodbyes, on their way to their door and Lydia smiled sweetly at him. 

Peter must’ve had a dazed expression on his face because Derek stood next to him, asking in a careful voice, “You okay, Peter?”

“Yes, I think so. This all just takes a bit getting used to I guess,” Peter responded. “Derek, can I ask you a question? Again?”

“Of course,” Derek answered.

“Could you please explain to me again about why I agreed to the Memory Manipulation?” Peter asked awkwardly. He knew the story but sometimes he needed the confirmation of why he’d agreed to it.

Derek’s brows drew together in concern but he promptly answered. “Once we got you out of Eichen House, you were having some difficulties transitioning back into, well, normal life. Scott offered to perform the Memory Manipulation on you so you wouldn’t remember the details of what had happened to you while in that place. You asked Scott if he could dull some other memories, like the fire and what had happened when you came out of the coma.”

“You mean when I killed Laura,” Peter said, his heart giving a throb of discomfort. He couldn’t believe he’d killed his family, his pack, but he knew it to be true.

Derek looked uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Yeah, like when you killed Laura.”

Peter certainly didn’t miss not knowing what had happened while he’d been incarcerated at Eichen House and although he knew the majority of the Hales had been killed in a fire set by Kate Argent and he’d been burned badly, he didn’t remember the details. His memory was like Swiss cheese but Peter acquiesced to the situation. 

His nephew continued talking, “Do you need to see the papers Scott had drawn up?”

Scott might come off as being a bit clueless, and slow in the brain, but he’d had the foresight to mitigate Peter’s possible disbelief regarding the Memory Manipulation; the True Alpha had insisted Peter draft missives for himself detailing why he’d agreed to undergo the procedure and what he risked—being asked to leave the Pack—should he ask for a reversal. Scott had even had the documents notarized by Satomi so Peter couldn’t claim foul play. 

“No, thank you. I just needed to hear about my decision again.” Everyone in the pack seemed to have accepted the change in Peter more readily than Peter himself.

Derek squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “I’m going to help Lydia gather some of the items needed for the spell. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, nephew. I want to get some more information on creating a spark so I can be ready for tomorrow morning,” Peter assured Derek.

Peter and Derek exited the loft together and Peter gave his nephew a jaunty wave as they split up and got into their respective vehicles. 

-0-

Derek was out, helping Lydia and Scot, which left Peter to entertain Mason and Corey as they waited on Stiles.

“Can I offer you gentleman some refreshment?” Peter inquired. 

Mason and Corey looked at each before shrugging. Mason smiled at Peter. “Yes, please. We skipped breakfast so we’d be on time.”

“Well apparently Stiles didn’t follow your lead. How about some French toast?” Peter offered. They had most of a loaf of bread that was drying out but hadn’t grown moldy. Yet.

Corey’s eyes shone. “Yes, please. I love French toast.”

Mason ribbed him with his elbow. “You love anything you can pour maple syrup on.”

Both young men smiled mischievously at each other and Peter rolled his eyes. Young love.

Stiles sailed into the loft after a brief knock on the door. “I’m sorry I’m late. My dad was grilling me about the plan…are you making French toast? I love French toast. What can I do to help?”

“Why don’t you set the table and pour everyone something to drink. Breakfast should be ready in about ten minutes.” Peter smiled at Stiles.

Stiles grinned back. “They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Thanks, Peter.”

Peter turned back to the stove, focusing on beating the eggs, milk, vanilla and cinnamon together before spraying the pan with non-stick spray. He could stare at Stiles all day and that would get downright embarrassing.

Stiles was easily Peter’s favorite in the pack and that was saying something. He and Derek had grown close once again, Derek seeming to forgive Peter his transgressions. Scott had included Peter into the pack happenings and that was exactly what Peter had needed; a sense of belonging. Lydia was Lydia and a force to be reckoned with but Stiles… being around Stiles was the highlight of any day for Peter.

Stiles was courageous, had a flexible mind and his creativity in problem solving was unparalleled. He was also easy on the eyes and seemed to share a similar sense of humor with Peter.

Peter served up breakfast, heartened by the way the young men consumed what was put before them. Providing for the pack always made Peter, and his wolf, content.

“So,” Mason said after he finished his last gulp of milk. “What exactly does a spark test entail?”

“I’m going to start by giving you some Mountain Ash and asking you to reinforce it with the spark of your will, creating a barrier that will keep a supernatural being from crossing it. I’ll be the supernatural being putting it to the test,” Peter explained.

“Oh. That sounds…interesting. Can I go first. Please?” The dark complexioned young man turned earnest eyes on Peter who acquiesced.

Mason presented like an optimistic version of Stiles, he had a similar thirst for knowledge, but he was always upbeat, which was the antithesis of sarcastic Stiles. Peter loved sarcasm but he supposed that dynamic worked well since his best friend, Liam, was a bit of a pessimist. Balance in everything. 

“Of course. Stiles, could you please hand Mason one of the containers on the table?” Stiles complied with Peter’s request, patting Mason on the arm, wishing him luck.

“Remember your reading? You’re going to unscrew the lid and throw the contents of the container up into the air and will it into a ring. I’ll then test the barrier. Whenever you’re ready,” Peter said.

Mason opened the container, gave its contents a sniff, and then threw the ash overhead. The Mountain Ash gracefully danced through the air before settling in a circle around the young man.

“Excellent,” Peter praised.

The young man smiled but the smile turned to a look of pure terror as Peter shifted into beta form, growling and lunging at Mason.

Mason scrambled backward, shrieking, and buried himself in Corey’s arms.

The barrier dropped without resistance, Peter moving through it easily.

“Oh,” Mason sighed. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that but I should have.”

“Hey, you did great,” Corey played cheerleader to Mason. He gave Peter the side-eye. “It’s not your fault Peter went all crafty and surprised you.”

Peter smiled benignly. Mason had some aptitude but Peter would withhold judgment for now. “How about you, Corey? Ready for your test?” Peter asked.

Corey stepped away from Mason, straightening his shoulders, standing tall. “Yes, sir.”

Corey was by far the most polite member of the pack. Mason brushed a kiss to his cheek and patted him on the ass, not as subtly as he probably thought.

Stiles stood to the side, fighting to keep a straight face. Peter even saw Stiles biting the inside of his cheek. It was probably Mason’s shriek that had set him off.

Laughter bubbled from Stiles and he bent over at the waist. “I’m sorry, Mason, but that was awesome. I’ve never seen you jump so high or hit that high note before.”

Peter had called it; the antics of the younger man had tickled Stiles’s funny bone. Peter predicted that easily since he’d been equally amused, he just had more experience in hiding that amusement.

Mason, good humored, joined in the laughter. “Yeah, yeah, wait until your turn.”

Stiles finally calmed down and grabbed the next container of Mountain Ash. He handed it to Corey and smiled at him, also wishing him luck.

“Do you need me to walk you through this?” Peter offered.

“No, I think I’ve got it. I just open the container and throw the contents—” as he said the words, he put them into action, but he was halted as,” –achoo!”

Corey’s eyes turned red and his nose began to leak.

“Oh, no, are you allergic to Mountain Ash?” Mason said in dismay.

Stiles grabbed Corey’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you outside and away from the Mountain Ash.” Stiles hustled Corey out of the door, Mason on their heels.

Peter stared at the Mountain Ash scattered around the living room, a bit perturbed. He’d never given thought to someone being allergic to the magical herb and so he didn’t have anything on hand to minimize its effects.

Stiles reentered the loft. “Corey was much better once he was removed from the source. Mason is going to take him home.”

“And then there was one,” Peter quipped.

Stiles rolled his eyes but he smiled. “Indeed. I guess we ought to finish the test. At least we know I’m not allergic to it.”

Instead of retrieving the last container from the coffee table, Stiles stood in the middle of the room, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

The Mountain Ash arranged itself into a perfect circle.

Stiles opened his eyes and smirked. “Come on, big boy, give it your best shot.”

Peter was never one to pass up a dare and without warning he leaped toward Stiles, shifting in mid air and…

…bounced off of the barrier, collapsing to the ground.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Stiles broke the barrier, kneeling down next to Peter.

“Only my pride is bruised,” Peter retorted.

Stiles relaxed his posture. “I was afraid I’d hurt my teacher and on the first day, too.”

“Never fear, I’m made of sterner stuff than that,” Peter allowed Stiles to pull him to his feet.

“Let me get this cleaned up and then I’ll get out of your hair,” Stiles guided Peter toward the couch.

Peter sank down into its comfort, bemused as Stiles used his spark to coral the ash into a pile before scooping it back into the container.

“I guess that answers that question. I believe you’ve just become our designated spark,” Peter smiled.

Stiles returned the smile but then sunk his teeth into his lower lip, worrying the skin.

“What’s wrong, Stiles?” Peter asked, concerned. This would only work if the person providing the spark believed in the plan. Belief was everything.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Stiles shrugged, staring at his feet.

“I really don’t think you need to worry about that,” Peter reassured him.

“You don’t understand, I really screwed up before. Scott and I had a bit of a falling out back when Theo and the Dread Doctors…never mind. It’s a long, boring story. I just don’t really feel like I’ve earned back his trust. You know what I mean?” Stiles looked up at Peter.

 _Trust._ In some ways it was such an abstract principle but it, or the lack thereof, certainly ruled Peter’s life. 

“Yes, I do think I know a thing or two about losing trust. Is it possible your misreading the situation?” Peter probed.

“Maybe. I just want a chance to prove myself again but I’m afraid I’ll manage to blow it,” Stiles sighed.

“Then I’ll do my best to prepare you. Why don’t we meet here daily, at 9 a.m., until we’re ready to spring the trap. I’ll help you work on your barrier so you’re comfortable with it,” Peter offered.

“Thanks. I’d like that a lot,” Stiles stared into Peter’s face before a shy smile softened his face.

Peter could get used to that look. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d get to see it a few more times while they prepared for the Calaveras.

-0-

Stiles held the barrier easily. Peter poked at it but Stiles held firm.

“I think that’s fine, Stiles. You can ease up now,” Peter suggested.

Stiles opened his eyes, nodded his head, and the barrier cut off. Being a spark seemed to come easy to the younger man.

Peter hadn’t been expecting the barrier to fall so suddenly and he stumbled forward, crashing into Stiles.

Stiles fell on his ass.

Kneeling down, Peter opened his mouth to let loose a litany of apologies when Stiles began to giggle.

Eyes crinkled, full of mirth, Stiles threw his head back and cackled with unfettered glee. He snorted loudly before proclaiming, “I really need to work on my landing.”

The laughter was infectious and Peter joined in, his sides aching with the effort. He hadn’t had many opportunities to laugh lately (since he was a child?) and he just went with the moment.

After a while they both quieted. Peter held out his hand and helped Stiles to his feet.

“Hey Peter?” Stiles asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“Yes, Stiles?” Peter braced for whatever the human had to say.

“What if the Calaveras fight the barrier? I mean what if they have their own spark?” That was an excellent question and one Lydia had discussed with Scott and Deaton according to Derek.

“I’ve heard Lydia has some other spells she can use should that happen,” Peter tried to assuage Stiles’s fears.

Stiles nodded but his brows were scrunched, deep in thought. “I have all the faith in the world when it comes to Lydia, but I feel like we need a back-up plan of some sort. Do you think the barrier could also serve as some sort of a weapon? Maybe channel the power so that it not only works as a barrier but serves up a punch?”

Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, I think that could be done.”

Smile wreathing his face, Stiles fist-pumped the air. “Awesome! Maybe I can go mano y mano with another. Sort of a sorcery face-off.” His excitement was contagious.

“Are you suggesting something like the Gandalf versus Saruman showdown in _Fellowship of the Ring?_ Peter inquired.

Stiles gaped at Peter for a moment—perhaps it hadn’t occurred to Stiles that someone Peter’s age was familiar with J. R. R. Tolkien but Peter had devoured the books as a teenager and had lined up for every one of the movies—before nodding his head, happy amazement scenting the air. Then the younger man scrunched up his face in thought. “Actually, Gandalf kind of gets his ass kicked in that scene and I don’t want to be Saruman. No, wait! I’ve got it, Dumbledore versus Valdemort in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._ ”

Peter snorted, happy to trade cultural references with a worthy opponent: “Actually I was leaning toward Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice in _Fantasia._

“Mickey Mouse? _Fantasia?_ Stiles wrinkled his nose adorably.

The urge to kiss the tip of that sweet, upturned nose hit Peter like a sledgehammer; it was so unexpected, Peter rocked back on his feet, shocked.

“Yes, have you ever seen it? I know computer generated special effects are all the rage now, but you should still take the time to admire the classics,” Peter suggested. Peter’s taste in movies was eclectic and he did have a soft spot for larger than life adventures utilizing CGI but he still had an appreciation for old school cinematography.

“Okay, you work with me on using the barrier to fight and we’ll watch your flick later. Deal?” Stiles said, putting his hand out to shake.

Peter placed his hand in Stiles’s big paw and gave it a strong shake. “Deal.”

Good grief but the younger man had large hands and feet. Apparently Peter had acquired a bit of a fetish for such along the way.

Peter got himself on track. “Now, you’re going to call up the barrier, I’m going to direct some of my energy toward it and you’re going to repel it. In the same way you use belief to power the barrier, use that same spark to change the direction of the incoming wave,” Peter advised.

Stiles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before he tapped into the ambient energy. They were using a low level version of Deaton’s spell and were no longer working with the Mountain Ash. 

The barrier buzzed to life.

Peter dug deep and found his own spark and channeled it toward the young man.

Stiles flinched and then the spark morphed into pure lightening as it hurled back at Peter.

Easily dodging the blow, Peter was encouraged by the raw talent Stiles displayed. “Again. This time try absorbing the power before turning it back on me.”

Once again calling upon his innermost energy, Peter sent it zinging toward the human.

His salvo pinged effortlessly from the invisible barrier.

“Ugh. Sorry,” Stiles murmured.

Peter waited for Stiles to set himself again before he sent another wave of energy toward the young man.

Blue light crackled around Stiles, lighting up his aura. Stiles waited a beat before shoving his hands away from his body.

Energy pulsed at Peter, shoving him back until he came to rest against the wall.

Stiles practically glowed but it wasn’t due to the spark; he seemed very pleased with his efforts. Peter certainly was pleased.

“Better. Let’s go again but this time I want you to hang on to the incoming energy until you feel like you’re on the verge of exploding and then take that same energy and let it explode outward,” Peter counseled.

Stiles had turned pale and his brow was sweat dampened but he nodded his head gamely. “Bring it.”

The beta spark wasn’t as robust as when he was an Alpha but Peter still could tap into its deep well. Stiles had shown an aptitude for manipulating the energy so far so Peter channeled everything he had into one strong burst.

Like the aurora borealis, colors swirled as they hit the barrier in front of Stiles, dancing until they coalesced into a cobalt blue.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles threw the vivid color back at Peter who found himself battered through the air, only coming to rest when his back smacked into the wall. 

Hard.

“Oomph,” Peter garbled as he made contact.

Stiles’s eyes snapped open and he looked in horror at Peter as he sagged at the base of the wall.

“Peter!” Stiles cried out, lunging forward.

The younger man stopped in his tracks thought, staggering for a moment, before he feel to his knees.

Peter was up on his feet, shaking off the damage of the collision, as he rushed to his downed pack mate. 

Hand on his thighs, head bowed on his long neck, Stiles drew in deep, ragged breaths. “Think I over did it.”

Damn it. It was Peter’s job to help Stiles, not hurt him.

Kneeling in front of Stiles, Peter’s palm cupped the pointed chin and tipped it upward.

A slow trickle of blood eased from one of Stiles’s nostrils.

Pulling a snowy white handkerchief from his pocket, Peter held it to Stiles’s nose with one hand, the other hand guiding Stiles’s hand to it. “Squeeze your nostrils and tip your head forward.”

Stiles followed Peter’s advice soundlessly. 

Clearing his throat, Peter asked, “Does anything hurt? Is your head okay?”

“My dad would tell you my head has never been okay,” Stiles’s voice was muffled from the cloth covering his face, “but other than a slight headache, I think I’m okay. Just tired,” Stiles sighed out.

“Okay, let’s move this to the couch,” Peter said, his hands cupping Stiles’s elbows, raising him slowly to his feet. 

Knees wobbling, Stiles tried sliding back to the floor but Peter held him up. “Easy does it.”

After a moment, Stiles straightened and allowed Peter to escort him to the couch. “You make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you something sugary and calorie laden to drink.”

After depositing a unresisting Stiles on to the couch, Peter went to the refrigerator and found a can of Coke. He popped the tab on the can and crossed back to Stiles who was reclining comfortably, back propped against one arm of the couch, his feet up on the cushions, legs crossed at the ankle.

The young man must’ve been feeling better because he was fussing with the laptop computer on the coffee table.

“Huh. Two hours and six minutes,” Stiles said, turning on the big screen TV.

Peter handed the can of Coke to Stiles. “You need to replenish your strength. I’m going to get some yogurt for you and then make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You need the protein.”

Stiles looked startled but he took the can, sipping from it. “Thanks, Peter. Do you want me to wait to start the show?”

Glancing at the TV, Peter saw the words _Fantasia_ on the screen.

“Go ahead and start it. I’ll be right back,” Peter assured him.

Peter grabbed two yogurts and set them on the coffee table along with a spoon. He recognized _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_ by Bach. 

Animated lines, shapes and cloud formations reflected the sound and rhythms of the music on the screen. 

Returning to the kitchen, Peter quickly constructed two sandwiches and plated them before grabbing another can of Coke.

Two Cokes, two yogurts and two sandwiches ought to help replenish the calories Stiles had burned. Being able to provide for Stiles alleviated some of Peter’s guilt and made his inner wolf content.

Peter sank on to the couch just as _Nutcracker Suite_ by Tchaikovsky began to play. A variety of dances commenced on the screen with fairies, fish, flowers, mushrooms, and leaves. Peter supposed it seemed very tame to Stiles but the younger man was smiling as he watched.

Stiles continued to munch and sip steadily and Peter saw the color seeping back into his skin.

The next segment, _The Sorcerer’s Apprentice_ by Dukas, was on next. Mickey Mouse as the young apprentice to sorcerer Yen Sid attempted magic tricks but things were not going smoothly for him.

Stiles pouted. “Seriously? I have much more control than Mickey,” he huffed. “I could take a broom any old day.”

“I concede your efforts went better than poor Mickey’s,” Peter agreed.

Peter expected Stiles to fidget, or even fall asleep, but every time Peter glanced at him, Stiles was watching the screen with rapt attention.

They watched the segments featuring the music of Stravinsky, Beethoven and Ponchielli before something curious happened—Stiles stiffened sharply when _Night on Bald Mountain_ by Mussorgsky began to play. 

It was Peter’s favorite segment of the film. Even as a child he had enjoyed the midnight devil summoning evil spirits and restless souls from their graves to Bald Mountain, watching as the spirits danced and flew through the air until driven back by the sound of an Angelus bell as night faded into dawn.

Not all that long ago, Peter would have personally identified with the devil but now he felt at peace and could just enjoy the colors swirling across the screen.

Stiles sniffed.

Peter surreptitiously tried to see what the problem was and became concerned when he smelled the salty liquid of tears.

“Stiles?”

“What piece of music is this?” Stiles asked, rubbing his arm across his eyes.

“ _Night on Bald Mountain_ by Modest Mussorgsky. Do you recognize it?” Peter probed.

The unexpected tears while watching a Walt Disney film from 1940 had thrown him.

“I think my mom,” Stiles began, pausing to swallow convulsively, “played this music for me when I was little. She would twirl me around the living room, teaching me to dance. I had forgotten about it.”

Peter was touched that Stiles felt comfortable enough to share this childhood memory. Picking up Stiles’s ankles, Peter draped them over his lap, giving them a squeeze. “Your mom had excellent taste in music.”

After the haunting strains of _Ave Maria _by Schubert died out and the robed monks walked into the ruins of the cathedral, Stiles turned off the TV. “Thank you. That was a lot better than I was expecting.”__

__“You’re quite welcome. Although I believe that’s called damning with faint praise,” Peter quipped._ _

__Stiles shifted until he was sitting up again. “Do you have memories like that? A special song or show or book that makes you think of your childhood?” Stiles asked innocently but then flinched. “Oh, sorry. That was insensitive. Just ignore me.”_ _

___As if; Peter could never ignore him._ _ _

__Peter’s memories had been manipulated but the good memories were still there. “Yes, Stiles, I still get nostalgic when I hear _The Air That I Breath_ by The Hollies. It was a favorite of my mother’s and I can remember baking cookies in the kitchen with her while she listened to it on the radio.”_ _

__Instead of feeling tearful, the memory brought a smile to Peter’s face. “I hadn’t thought of that in forever.”_ _

__Something had been nibbling at the edge of Peter’s mind ever since Stiles had brought up the question of trust. Peter thought he would take advantage of having Stiles’s attention and asking him about it. “Stiles, I feel like the pack has perhaps given me trust that I haven’t quite earned. Why is that?”_ _

__Stiles blushed, his cheeks turning a pretty pink that made Peter want to caress them. “Well, um, when Scott did the Memory Manipulation, he sort of got a glimpse into your whole psyche. You and me, were not so different from each other, or the rest of the pack for that matter. You had some shitty things happen in your life and yeah, you made some bad choices but Scotty said you’d learned from them and that you just want to get along with us and help us. That’s good enough for me,” Stiles punctuated his spiel by crossing his arms and nodding._ _

__Peace suffused Peter’s whole being. Maybe in the future he would have to cause to doubt his life choices, including asking to have his memory wiped, but for now it felt right. He had a chance to flourish with the pack._ _

__The heavy tread of footfalls outside of the door interrupted their trip down memory lane._ _

__“I can’t wait to show the pack what you taught me,” Stiles enthused, changing the topic._ _

__“Just make sure you conserve some of your energy,” Peter counseled. “We’re going to rely on you heavily for the upcoming skirmish.”_ _

__“You can rely on me,” Stiles vowed. The younger man still thought he had something to prove to the pack._ _

__Peter made his own vow to keep Stiles safe._ _

__Derek entered the loft followed by Scott and Lydia._ _

__Stiles began to fill them in on their training session, hands waving in the air as he described the barrier and how he could use it offensively, too._ _

__Lydia looked intrigued._ _

__Peter had to say, Stiles’s excitement was catching. He wouldn’t say they were invincible but Peter liked their chances of surviving this incursion._ _

__-0-_ _

__The pack spread out around the Nemeton, taking up their assigned posts. Scott looked around, assuring everyone was in place. “Does everyone know what to do?”_ _

__“I’ll be chanting the spell,” Lydia assured him._ _

__Hayden nodded her head decisively. “Liam and I will lend our power to the barrier along with Derek and Scott.” Derek and Scott nodded their heads in agreement._ _

__Mason elbowed Corey lightly before speaking up. “We’re going to head up to the look out point and help Chris monitor things. We’ll let you know when the Calaveras are headed your way.”_ _

__Stiles sank on to the edge of the Nemeton; it seemed a disrespectful move but Peter couldn’t detect any negative vibes. “One barrier, coming up,” Stiles indicated his readiness. He turned his head and stared at Peter._ _

__Peter smiled confidently. “I’ll act the surge protector.”_ _

__The threat was very real yet Peter was having fun. Being a part of the pack, even a hybrid pack like this one, meant more to him than his memories. Peter acknowledged to himself he was at his best when he was needed and this plan—his part in defending the pack—was the best shot at fulfilling this need he had._ _

__Stiles smiled back at him and for a moment it seemed as though the young man was reading his thoughts; it was in the knowing tilt of his head and the sparkle in his sherry colored eyes._ _

__Mason and Corey headed north toward the path that would deliver them to Chris’s side._ _

__Chris’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie, “I’m in position. Over.”_ _

__“Roger that,” Scott acknowledged._ _

__Scott looked around at the members of his pack, glance stopping on Stiles. “Are you ready to go, Stiles?”_ _

__“I’ve got this, Scotty,” Stiles responded._ _

__The exchange had a solemnity to it that was hard for Peter to fathom. The conversation with Stiles about Theo and the Dread Doctors came to mind and Peter realized the best friends were espousing trust for one another, about one another. Peter had no doubt both Scott and Stiles would play their parts to perfection and the plan would be a rousing success._ _

__Mason’s voice sounded over the walkie-talkie. “Incoming. They should reach your perimeter in about five minutes.”_ _

__“Copy that,” Scott answered back, hitching his walkie-talkie back on to his belt. “Okay, Lydia, looks like it’s show time.”_ _

__The young woman might be short in stature but she had heart and soul as she straightened to her full height. Derek handed her the final ingredients and Lydia added them to the bowl on the ground before her. Peter recognized the language as a derivative of Latin but he didn’t bother to follow along; Lydia had the spell memorized and Derek was her back up. Peter had his own role to play._ _

__Stiles stood up, catching Peter’s hand in his own. “Let’s light a match to this fire.”_ _

__Peter squeezed Stiles’s hand. “Go for it, Sparky.”_ _

__The young man threw his head back and cackled with glee._ _

__Peter surveyed the rest of the pack and they stared back, nodding and smiling. Their postures might’ve been a bit tense and the smiles a bit strained but everyone was ready._ _

__Stiles closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “I believe.”_ _

__The contents in the bowl at Lydia’s feet combusted into a minor fireball and in a blink of an eye, the air around Stiles glowed that deep, deep cobalt blue._ _

__Chris’s voice could be heard from the walkie-talkie on Scott’s hip, “Reaching the barrier in 3-2-1.”_ _

__The pack had laid down a line of Mountain Ash to demarcate the barrier._ _

__Stiles jolted where he stood but then Peter heard the magical hum he associated with the barrier clicking into place._ _

__Liam chuckled nervously as they heard the exclamations from the hunters as they ran into the barrier._ _

__The power element of the barrier—Scott, Derek, Liam and Hayden—stood around Lydia, seeming to draw strength from their nearness to one another._ _

__“Damn, they brought their own power source,” Stiles bit out as he rocked on his feet, swaying. Peter wrapped his hand around Stiles’s biceps to steady him._ _

__“Let me counter it,” Lydia uttered before she began chanting different words in that archaic language._ _

__The shifters all had flushed faces and their muscles flexed at different intervals but no one seemed to be in distress._ _

__Liam interrupted the quiet. “Tell me again what this barrier is supposed to do?” Well, maybe one member of the team was showing signs of distress._ _

__Stiles chanted softly, “I believe.” Peter didn’t think the teen’s doubts would affect Stiles’s ability to generate the spark but he was relieved when Scott promptly answered._ _

__“Done right, this barrier will prevent the Calaveras from ever entering our territory. We’ll be safe here.” The True Alpha’s words rang with honesty._ _

__Derek—and who ever thought his nephew would ever become the voice of reason—added his own thoughts. “Yeah, that means as long as you stay within pack land, you’ll be safe. If you leave, you’re going to have to be vigilant.”_ _

__Peter was picking up strain in Stiles; it was apparent in the tension in the biceps Peter still held on to as well as the eyes scrunched closed and jaw gritted shut._ _

__Hayden’s voice was concerned. “Are you guys feeling that?”_ _

__Lydia had finished up her counter spell and she was the one to answer the other girl. “I hadn’t quite accounted for them bringing their own spell caster. Hang on everybody, this might get a bit rocky.”_ _

__Mumbling words under her breath, the Preserve around them quieted until only the hum of the barrier and Lydia’s whisperings could be heard._ _

__Peter could feel something impact the barrier and Stiles not only rocked back on his feet, his knees gave out. Pain rocketed through the young man and Peter moved his other hand to the back of Stiles’s neck and quickly pulled the pain he could absorb._ _

__“Would it help if I added my beta powers to your energy?” Peter queried Scott although it was Lydia who answered him._ _

__“No, I’m going to try something with my powers and I think Stiles will need you more than we do,” Lydia said. “Stiles, we’re going on the offensive.”_ _

__Apprehension snaked down Peter’s spine. Stiles was already showing wear from holding the barrier and Peter wasn’t sure how much more the human could take. Stiles was strong though so Peter shouldn’t sell him short._ _

__“Everyone, brace yourself,” Lydia called out quietly before the hush of the area was ripped apart by her Banshee scream._ _

__Stiles sagged in Peter’s arms and he lowered the young man to the ground, propping him against the Nemeton, kneeling next to him. He was about to demand Lydia stop her Banshee wail when Peter felt the barrier strengthen._ _

__“Good job, Lydia, I think that worked,” Scott declared._ _

__The words were barely out of Scott’s mouth when the ground trembled and Stiles scrambled for Peter’s hand with his own. Stiles cleared his throat with a groan. “Lydia, put everything you can into the next scream.”_ _

__“But Stiles,” Lydia began to protest._ _

__Stiles cut her off. “I’ve got this. Please. Trust me.”_ _

__Scott looked over his shoulder at them, grimacing. Stiles probably didn’t look like he had much left in the tank, not with the way he was listing against the magical tree trunk, clinging to Peter’s hand._ _

__The True Alpha flashed his eyes. “Do it.”_ _

__Lydia put her head back and the shifters all covered their ears as she let out a wail that made her previous one seem like a mere warm up._ _

__Peter pulled Stiles into the shelter of his arms as the young man whimpered._ _

__A pulse of energy fanned outward and Peter flashed a predator’s smile as he heard the cries from the hunters. The Calaveras Clan called to one another, groaning and complaining, finally conceding defeat._ _

__Awareness rippled through the pack bond: The McCall Pack had won._ _

__Lydia said a few more words in that ancient dialect of Latin and the power strumming through the air slowly lessened._ _

__“Are we good?” Scott questioned Lydia._ _

__“Everything is set in place now. Stiles, you can drop the barrier now,” Lydia counseled, her voice ragged from using her powers._ _

__Stiles voice was equally hoarse. “Thank fuck,” he wheezed._ _

__Peter felt the human wilt that much more, weight sagging fully against him. “Stiles!” Peter cried as he shook the slim man in his arms._ _

__Stiles’s head lolled against Peter’s shoulder. He would’ve panicked except he could hear the human’s heartbeat slowing from a fast paced gallop to the controlled three beat gait of a canter. Stiles’s respirations were deep and even; Peter could feel them ghosting on the side of his neck and the gusts tickled._ _

__Peter had never been so happy to be tickled before._ _

__Scott knelt down on the other side of Stiles. “Is he okay?” Gone was the steely determination of True Alpha Scott McCall and in his wake was the tentative best friend, worrying about Stiles._ _

__“Just exhausted, I think,” Peter’s words emerged in a near growl and he frowned, embarrassed at the loss of control._ _

__Reaching across Stiles, Scott squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “You were amazing, Peter. I could feel you through the bond and you gave Stiles everything he needed to keep the barrier up.”_ _

__Praise from his Alpha made Peter’s inner wolf preen. “I’m always happy to help in any way I can.”_ _

__Scott smiled at his response. The younger shifter didn’t call bullshit at Peter’s words or point out his misdeeds from the past. It was an easy moment of camaraderie that was only broken when Stiles snuffled, turning more firmly into Peter’s chest._ _

__“Are you okay to carry Stiles? We’ll monitor him for a while and let him sleep this off,” Scott announced._ _

__Peter nodded and this motion was enough to send Stiles slumping further into Peter’s arms, nestling in. “I’ve got him.”_ _

__“You sure do,” Lydia remained by the bowl, picking up ingredients, but the shifters still easily heard her words, though softly whispered._ _

__Peter ignored the teasing, bundling the exhausted young man into his arms. Derek was there at his side, a hand on his arm, offering assistance as Peter rose to his feet. Peter thanked him wordlessly with a nod, his whole focus on monitoring Stiles’s vital signs._ _

__The return trip to the loft was a bit of a blur and once they entered it, Peter deposited Stiles on his own bed. Peter drooped next to him, tired from expending his own energies as well as worrying over the human._ _

__“Take a nap, Peter,” Scott suggested. “We’ll keep an eye on Stiles,” he promised._ _

__Peter slumped next to the slumbering young man on the bed and quickly succumbed to rest, confident he was safe, surrounded by his pack._ _

__-0-_ _

__Peter woke up when the body next to him stirred._ _

__“I did it. I held the barrier,” Stiles proclaimed. This was followed closely by, “Damn, I’m hungry.”_ _

__Any worries Peter had about Stiles’s health quieted; if the human was hungry, Peter took that to be an excellent sign._ _

__Derek’s voice wafted from the direction of the kitchen. “Breakfast for dinner? I’m scrambling eggs to go with the bacon and toast.”_ _

__Peter’s nose twitched as he scented the crisp bacon in the air. He couldn’t believe he slept through that amazing scent. Then again, he’d been comfortable, and content, nestled on the bed next to Stiles._ _

__Stiles was sitting up, stretching long arms over his head, yawning. “That will do for the first course. Thank you.”_ _

__Those sherry colored eyes turned their attention to Peter, pinning him in place when Stiles’s batted those pretty, long eyelashes at him. “Thank you. Your Mickey Mouse School of Sorcery seems to have paid off.” The skin bracketing Stiles’s mouth dimpled._ _

__“You were an apt student,” Peter murmured back._ _

__Someone, most likely Scott, snorted in the other room._ _

__A feminine voice spoke up. “Those two should get a room already.”_ _

__Lydia._ _

__Peter was mortified. He thought his little crush on Stiles had gone unnoticed._ _

__Stiles purred in a deep, sleep rumbled voice turning Peter’s knees weak. “Pretty sure we already got the room.” It was a good thing Peter was still sitting on the bed or he’d probably have fallen over._ _

__Then Stiles winked at Peter._ _

___Winked._ _ _

__Peter swooned inside._ _

__“Come on, I’m starving,” Stiles announced as he climbed to his feet. This time when he stretched his arms overhead, an expanse of pale skin winked at Peter when Stiles’s t-shirt rode up his torso._ _

__Maybe it was time Peter laid his cards out on the table._ _

__Rolling out of bed, Peter held his hand out. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”_ _

__Stiles quickly latched on to his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “It’s a date.”_ _

__Both Peter and his wolf preened._ _

__Stomach grumbling loudly, Stiles patted it with his other hand. “Maybe after the eggs and bacon?”_ _

__“I hope you’re made of money, Peter. Stiles could literally eat someone out of house and home,” Scott ribbed. “He can almost keep pace with me.” The Alpha’s metabolism was incredible, burning through calories at an amazing rate. Peter at least remembered that much from his time as one._ _

__Stiles was lanky but his muscles were strong and lean._ _

__“Money isn’t an issue for Peter,” Derek commented._ _

__Peter blushed. Stiles smiled. The pack laughed._ _

__Peter was pretty certain he could get used to this._ _

__

__Finis_ _

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the prompt for Fighting on my Hurt/Comfort Bingo card. I believe I have 22 of 25 squares completed so blackout seems like a possibility.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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